The mystery of Anna Amerio

One of the most intriguing genealogical mysteries I have encountered lately is the private life of my (probably very distant) relative Anna Amerio, and her very peculiar family arrangement – for you see, for a number of years she lived and had several children with a man… who was NOT the man she was married to! [Audience gasps] For the record, there is a family tree chart towards the end of this article which will help you understand the many relationships mentioned below.

It is difficult to state when or where Anna was even born, as her existence is construed through records that do not directly relate to her. She may have been born sometime around 1833. Her parents’ identities are equally mysterious, for the simple reason that I have not been able to pinpoint her baptism record. Again, more on that later.

But in the absence of these vital clues, what do I know about Anna? She first crops up in December 1869, when her son Leonardo Caire passed away aged two years in the hamlet known as Regione Cortetta, within the parish of San Marzano Oliveto, in the Italian region of Piedmont. The record makes no explicit mention as to whether Anna and the child’s father, Emanuele Caire, were married or not. However, the record does seem to contain some contradictory information: it clearly states that the unfortunate child had been born in the same parish; and yet, no baptism for him exists – in San Marzano Oliveto at least. This may suggest he was born elsewhere, as I’ll explain shortly.

The 1869 death certificate for Anna’s child Leonardo, who died aged two years. His place of birth is (probably wrongly) given as San Marzano Oliveto, where he died.

The next record where I have been able to find Anna’s name mentioned is the 1870 birth of her next son Bartolomeo, who is clearly recorded as the son “of the illegitimate union” between Emanuele Caire and Anna Amerio. The birth also took place in the hamlet of Cortetta.

In 1872 Anna gave birth to a daughter called Carolina Clementina, who was registered as illegitimate in the local registry office. After her birth, Anna would produce three more children (Giacomo in 1875, Antonia in 1877 and a second Leonardo in 1879), all of whom were registered as either illegitimate, or otherwise recorded as the child of the unmarried couple Emanuele Caire and Anna Amerio.

Birth certificate of Anna’s daughter Antonia, which states Anna was “united and living” with Emanuele Caire. The words “his wife” have been ominously crossed out.

The absence of a marriage between a couple who clearly spent so many years cohabiting and procreating must necessarily beg the question: why didn’t they get married at some stage? And, given the fact that this is the only case of an unmarried couple in a long-term relationship living in the area between 1808 and 1926, I assume it can only mean one thing: that at least one of them wasn’t free to marry.

Locating Anna’s death record seemed straightforward at first: she was still alive when her daughter Carolina married in 1887, but is recorded as deceased at the time of her other daughter Antonia’s marriage in 1894. That can only mean that Anna died between 1887 and 1894. And yet, having thoroughly gone through the death records for San Marzano Oliveto covering that time span, I can conclude that no death record survives for an Anna Amerio who was listed as Emanuele Caire’s partner or mistress. But then again, would she be listed as someone’s lover on an official record like her own death certificate?

There is one – only one – intriguing candidate who fits the bill nicely, albeit while generating many more questions than answers…

In July 1893 a married woman called Anna Amerio died in San Marzano Oliveto at the age of sixty. No reference to the place or hamlet where she lived is made, and the two men who registered her death both bear the surname Amerio, leading me to believe they were either neighbours or more probably relatives of hers. The surname Caire is conspicuously absent from the record – which is not altogether surprising if she was not Emanuele Caire’s long-term mistress. Or is it?

The most important clue on the death record is that the deceased is referred to as the wife of one Nicola Filippone. The wife, mind you, and not the widow. So, unless someone made a mistake in the registry, Mr Filippone was still very much alive at the time. Read on, read on.

I then looked for the marriage certificate for Anna Amerio and the mysterious Mr Filippone, which actually took place in 1852. The bride’s parents are listed as Bartolomeo and Antonia, a name which Anna would give to her legitimate daughter in 1854. The trail then goes cold until Anna’s death nearly fifty years later.

There are several intriguing coincidences between the woman who married Nicola Filippone in 1852 and the one who set up house with Emanuele Caire about a decade later. As I’ve established, Anna (aka Mrs Filippone) was the daughter of Bartolomeo and Antonia Amerio – names which Emanuele Caire’s mistress would later give to two of her illegitimate children. Another uncanny coincidence is that Mr Filippone was from the nearby town of Nizza Monferrato, and may well have moved back there with his family after his marriage to Anna; perhaps not coincidentally, Emanuele Caire’s mistress had at least one child, heretofore unmentioned, in Nizza Monferrato in about 1867 (we know this because the said daughter, called Rosa, married in San Marzano Oliveto in 1884, but is recorded as being born in Nizza). So, apart from the coincidence of names and dates, there is definitely the spacial element to consider as a plausible link between the two families.

Let us not forget that intriguing detail of Mr Filippone being alive at the time of Anna’s death in 1893. If this is indeed correct, and assuming that their marriage had broken down sometime before the late 1860s, there was no way that Anna could have married Emanuele Caire during her husband’s lifetime, which might explain why she always remained his publicly-accepted lover. The fact that Mr Filippone survived his wife, and lived in the same village as her, leads me to believe he may have been an extremely supportive and open-minded husband. Cheers to him!

While there is still an element of assumption and guesswork here, to my mind there is little doubt as to what really happened. Here’s the story, as best as I can make it out, based on the evidence I have just explained: Maria Anna (as she was baptised) was born to Bartolomeo and Antonia Amerio in San Marzano Oliveto in 1835. In 1852, four days after her 17th birthday, she married Giovanni Nicola Filippone, and the couple had at least a daughter together, Maria Antonia (whose fate is unknown). I think it quite plausible to suppose that at some point the couple settled in Nizza Monferrato, where Nicola originally came from. Relations between husband and wife, for whatever reason, deteriorated at some stage, although it certainly seems like they both ended up living in San Marzano Oliveto (not necessarily under the same roof, mind). Either way, Nicola and Anna were still legally married, and the existence of at least one daughter made annulling the match practically impossible.

Entry of baptism for Maria Anna Amerio in 1835.

Enter Emanuele Caire, whom Maria Anna (aka Anna) would have known back from San Marzano Oliveto. He was about three years her junior, and may have been everything she hoped for in a man. I know for a fact that they had at least one daughter, Rosa, while they were living in Nizza Monferrato – and I’m pretty sure their eldest son Leonardo (the one who died in 1869 aged two and whose birth had allegedly taken place in San Marzano Oliveto) was in reality born in Nizza as well. The pair and their small family unit moved in the late 1860s to San Marzano Oliveto, where they each had close relatives. The fact that they openly lived together for so many years as husband and wife in all but name suggests they were accepted within their community as a somewhat unconventional couple. The birth of five more children (including Bartolomeo and Antonia – who as I said were probably so christened in honour of Anna’s own parents) cemented the relationship.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

There is of course a sad epilogue to this story. If Anna ever hoped to marry her beloved Emanuele, she was to be sorely disappointed. In 1893 she died at the age of sixty, according to her death certificate – she would have been fifty-eight in fact. It cannot be a coincidence that she was registered as the wife of Nicola Filippone: that is precisely what she was, from a legal point of view, and for all her love and openness about her relationship with Emanuele Caire, a legal relationship would have been considered much more relevant to a civil registrar than a somewhat scandalous, if long-standing amorous liaison to a man who in effect had never been her husband.

So, where to from here? First, I need to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that there are no other Anna Amerios who died between 1887 and 1894 (the church archives should soon provide an answer to that question). Secondly, I need to prove the birth of the two children born to Emanuele and Anna in Nizza Monferrato in the late 1860s. It would of course be useful to find a reference to Nicola Filippone’s death after 1893, which would indeed prove why his wife never married Emanuele Caire, but as he seems to have disappeared from the picture after 1854, I can’t say I’m holding my breath.

In any case, I’ll keep you posted.

A schematic family tree showing Maria Anna Amerio’s immediate family tree (parents, husband and only known legitimate daughter). Those in blue represent Anna Amerio’s lover, their children and his parents. Note how the grandparents’ names have been passed on to some of the children.

The truth will out:

Well, since writing the above, I have had two strokes of luck. First, I have managed to locate the death record for Nicola Filippone, who died in 1900 as “the widower of Anna Amerio”. Nothing too surprising there. It does, however, prove that if his late wife had been Emanuele Caire’s lover, then it goes a long way to explain why Anna and Emanuele never married. They simply couldn’t.

Nicola Filippone’s death as recorded in 1900. Note he is mentioned as the widower of Anna Amerio.

And yet while the birth certificates for Anna’s illegitimate children Leonardo and Rosa in Nizza Monferrato are still eluding me, I have been fortunate to receive a communication from the local church archive telling me that, other than the woman I have found, there is no other Anna Amerio who died between 1887 and 1894. Moreover, the baptisms of the children who were born in San Marzano Oliveto (Bartolomeo, Carolina Clementina, Giacomo, Antonia and Leonardo) all state that they were illegitimate. And (here’s the best bit!) Anna is listed as being born in San Marzano Oliveto, and that her father was indeed called Bartolomeo.

Now, unfortunately the baptism records do not refer to Anna’s mother, which is somewhat unfortunate as that would have hit the nail on the head to prove her parentage, and therefore her identity. But I have gone through all the baptisms for an Anna or Maria Anna born before the 1860s in San Marzano Oliveto, and there is only one person who fits the bill: and she happens to be the very same woman who married Nicola Filippone in 1852.

And so, my dear readers, I come to the relieving conclusion that Anna Amerio did indeed marry Nicola Filippone in 1852, and that they had a daughter together. As a married woman, Anna seems to have lived in nearby Nizza Monferrato for some time, where she probably began a relationship with Emanuele Caire. The couple and their two infant children moved back to San Marzano Oliveto, where they had their remaining brood. It was there that Anna passed away in 1893, followed by her legal husband seven years later. I know not when or where Emanuele died (he certainly survived his beloved Anna) but I am confident one day I will be able to ask one of her descendants if the story of such a remarkable woman has been passed down the generations to this day. If not, let this article reveal the story of their groundbreaking ancestor.


Posted in Genealogy, Italy, Marriage, San Marzano Oliveto, Women | Leave a comment

The tragedy of Jane Dee

I think it’s time to take a short break from Italian genealogy, so I’ve decided to delve into the English side of my family tree instead! Looking at the various members of my extended family whom I’ve long neglected to explore, I decided to look at the life of Jane Dee (née Allen), my great-great-great-grandfather’s third cousin.

Jane Allen was baptised in the Herefordshire village of Colwall on 27 April 1805, according to the parish transcripts which are available online. Her parents were Sarah and Edward Allen – most likely to have been the same Edward Allen and Sarah Lockstone, who were married on 8 February 1802. Edward was a distant cousin of my own relations: his paternal grandfather Joseph was the younger brother of Richard Allen, my great-grandfather six times over. I am fairly confident that both branches of the family knew each other well, as they lived in the same village during the same period. It is also quite possible that in 1803 Edward Allen acted as godfather, or sponsor, at the baptism of his kinsman and namesake Edward Allen, who happened to be my great-great-great-grandfather!

While Jane’s father belonged to a fairly large family, her parents did not have many children themselves. In fact, I have only found evidence of them having two daughters: Jane herself, as well as her elder sister Kezia, who had been born in 1803, just over a year after her parents’ wedding.

Edward Allen worked as an inn keeper, and evidence from the latter half of his life suggests he owned or at least ran the Horse & Groom public house (later demolished and renamed the Horse & Jockey, which still stands to this day, albeit under a different name and purpose – in fact, it is now a Thai restaurant!).

The earlier Horse & Groom pub as it once looked in the 19th century. The building was later demolished to make way to the present building, which today serves a slightly different purpose… Image courtesy of P. Ferris/Colwall History Group (Facebook).

It is highly likely that both Jane and her sister Kezia helped out with the running of the family business. It may have been in this context that they met their future husbands. Kezia was the first to wed, for in March 1832 she married James King, a well-to-do farmer who lived at Groves End and who would later be listed on the census as “employing eight men”. The couple would go on to have two children called Richard and Sarah Ann, both of whom would lead long lives – long enough to even see the dawn of the 20th century!

Following in her elder sister’s footsteps, 27-year-old Jane also decided to venture into matrimony shortly afterwards. Her choice of husband, however, was somewhat more unconventional than her sister’s, for in July 1832 she married James Dee, a farmer who was seven years her junior and, presumably, had far fewer prospects. But if anyone had any misgivings, Jane apparently soon proved them wrong. Settling into marital life, she gave birth to her first-born son before a full year had gone by. The boy was christened Richard Allen Dee, the middle name an obvious reference to Jane’s family.

But all was not well in the home of the Dees. In fact, soon thereafter, the family ran into financial trouble. The local press of the time reported that James Dee had to convey and assign his real and personal estate to trustees for the benefit of his creditors. It is quite likely that Jane’s parents came to the couple’s rescue, and in view of subsequent evidence, it is quite possible that the Dees moved into the Horse & Groom with Edward and Sarah Allen.

Notice published in the Worcester Herald in November 1833 noting James Dee’s financial problems. Source: FindMyPast.

Jane gave birth to a second son, John, in 1834, but sadly the child died a few months later, his abode being listed as the Horse & Groom (this leads me to believe that Jane and her family lived at the pub, and probably worked there as well in order to make ends meet). James and Jane Dee’s personal and material losses were slightly compounded by the happy arrival of a daughter in July 1836, whom they christened Harriet Ann.

Alas, the couple’s happiness was to be short-lived. In September that same year, and only weeks after their daughter’s birth, James Dee died at the very young age of 24; his entry of burial refers to him as residing at the Horse & Groom. The cause or circumstances of his death remain unknown. Had he been ill for some time? Was his early death brought on by his recent financial strains? We will probably never know. What is certain is that the loss of her husband, and at such an early age, must have been a devastating blow to Jane. Fortunately for her and her children, her parents were by her side at the time, and it seems likely they would have provided for her and her infant children in this time of need.

Two years later Jane’s mother Sarah passed away; Edward Allen himself lived for another two years, dying in February 1841 of “old age”. Jane now became the head of a small family. Her children Richard and Harriet Ann were still under ten years of age, so she probably resorted to odd jobs and the occasional help from her sister Kezia to survive. Although still in her mid-thirties, Jane never remarried. Instead, it seems that she devoted herself to her children’s upbringing. By 1851 all three were living in Slad Acre, in Colwall (incidentally, one of their neighbours, Jonathan Lucy, was another distant relative of mine who is notorious in my family history for having hosted a group of American Mormon preachers in Colwall in the mid-1840s). By 1861 Jane, Richard and Harriet Ann were living at the Purlieu, in Upper Colwall, and while her son worked as a plasterer and her daughter as a dressmaker, Jane herself does not seem to have had a particular occupation.

Colwall’s Horse & Groom Hotel, as it looked in the early 20th century. The building was erected following the demolition of its predecessor, where Edward Allen and his family once lived. Image courtesy of P. Ferris/Colwall History Group (Facebook).

Within three years both Richard and Harriet had found partners of their own. In 1863 Richard married Harriet Ann Pugh, from nearby Castlemorton (coincidentally, one of her sisters, Susannah Pugh, would later marry my great-great-grandfather’s brother William Henry Allen). They would go on to have four children called Annie Matilda, James Allen, Ada Jane and William Hooper Dee, who were all born either in Colwall or in nearby locations. On the other hand, Jane’s daughter Harriet Ann married Henry William Pantall, of Malvern, in 1864; the marriage remained childless.

Although her children did not live far, Jane spent the remaining years of her life living alone at the Purlieu. Without an apparent occupation, at least according to the census, it is difficult to know whether she did have to earn a living, or whether she relied on her relatives for support. Her apparent loneliness makes me wonder whether she was some sort of recluse, or if she was difficult to live with… or whether she simply preferred to live by herself!

Unfortunately, tragedy knocked at Jane’s door once again in early October 1876, when her eldest son Richard died aged 43 of a renal ailment known as Bright’s disease. Even if they did not live together, Jane must have felt her loss as acutely as any mother would, so much so that she began to show signs of mental instability. Her son had not been buried long when it was decided that Jane should be removed from her home.

Unfortunately, mental health issues were poorly understood at the time, and little would have been done to actually improve her state. She was soon taken to the workhouse, where her mental state continued to rapidly deteriorate: at first, her fits were brief, and she could not remember any of it afterwards. Later she developed an incoherent speech, was often found undressed and wandering about, shouting without apparent cause and disturbing other “inmates”.Within a few days, on 16 November 1876, 72-year-old Jane (“a spare old woman”) was admitted to Burghill Lunatic Asylum. Her papers state she was interned following an attack which had been brought on by distress due to the loss of her son.

As days went by, her state became much worse, her screaming more common and her temper more violent, even trying to attack others by throwing herself against them, falling on the floor and injuring herself in the process. Such attacks caused several bruises on her body which, combined with the fact that she had stopped eating her food, contributed to weakened her slight body. To calm her nerves, Jane was given morphine in regular intervals, but this only had a temporary soothing effect: for most of the time she was “excited” and had little appetite.

By early January 1877 Jane’s physical and mental state had deteriorated beyond hope. By the 11th a medical report stated she had been suffering from diarrhoea for a full fortnight, which combined with the ongoing “excitement” left her very feeble. Her screaming fits and general exhaustion continued as before, all of which weakened her to the point where she was literally wasting away. On the morning of 15th January, Jane Dee died, never having recovered her senses.

Jane Dee’s death certificate, wrongly giving her age as 74. Her death was certified as being caused by “Old age, Mania and Diarrhoea”. Source: GRO.

Jane’s postmortem revealed her brain was “much atrophied” with “about 4oz of subarachnoid fluid draining away”. Some of her organs also showed signs compatible with emaciation, which would have been brought on by her slight constitution and progressive weakening over the last two months of her life.

Harriet, Jane’s only surviving child, passed away in Malvern in 1917 aged 81; she was survived by her husband and by her late brother’s four children, who by then had emigrated to Manitoba, in Canada. I have yet to find out whether Jane was buried near Burghill, or if she was interred in her native Colwall close to her husband and her two beloved sons. Her sister Kezia died in 1881, being survived by her two children.

The asylum at Burghill eventually closed down in 1994, and the main building was subsequently demolished. Source: Wikipedia.
Posted in 1851 Census, 1861 Census, 1871 Census, Canada, Colwall, Death, England, FindMyPast, Genealogy, Herefordshire, Marriage, Mormonism, Women | 1 Comment

How did your ancestors meet?

Genealogists are naturally inquisitive. Let’s be honest: we are very nosy. We like detail, we love personal stories, we adore family gossip… but above all, we need facts.

As family historians, you have probably asked your parents and even your grandparents how they met (and if you haven’t: WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?). Did they meet at a dance, or through shared friends in common… Are you young enough for your parents to have met online, even?

Whatever the circumstances, knowing how your immediate ancestors met can usually only be answered by asking the main story players themselves, or else someone who knew them well (i.e. your aunt, a close family friend or a cousin). More often than not, such unique (and fleeting) stories leave very little paper trace behind them, if any at all – which begs the question: how can you prove how your ancestors met?

While “chance encounters” were probably even more common before than they are today, there are some ways that can help us figure out how our forefathers met our foremothers (get it?). And proving it can sometimes be substantiated by documentary proof. If not, in the worst case scenario, you can always narrow down the possibilities and make a very educated guess.

If two of your ancestors lived in a small community, be it a small village, or a specific religious group within a larger social group, chances are they would have met either pretty young or else by going about what we might call “daily life”: attending church, going to the market, at a local assembly room, at school… But have you considered the possibility that your ancestors were next-door neighbours? Census returns, tithe maps and other records relating to property can sometimes offer useful clues in this sense. For instance, I have located an entry from the 1841 census which reflects two branches of my English family tree, the Allens and the Davis, and would you believe it that in 1876 their respective grandchildren ended up getting married? Coincidence? Actually, it’s far from a coincidence – it just looks like it in hindsight. To them, it would have been the most natural, casual, ordinary way for two single individuals to meet and decide to tie the knot.

But there are other types of relationships, the sort that you have to dig deeper in order to get a fuller picture. Last spring, at the height of the COVID pandemic, I was stuck at home and decided to delve into my Spanish ancestry. To my delight, I discovered that the man who acted as godfather at my female ancestor’s baptism in 1758 was actually the uncle of her future husband. In other words, my ancestor married her godfather’s nephew – they were therefore “spiritually” related, albeit not by blood. Church records were of course necessary to prove the relationship.

The Unequal Marriage (1863) by Russian artist Vasili Pukirev. Image credit: Wikipedia.

Cousin marriage is another obvious way by which your ancestors may have got together. Marriage between individuals who knew they were related to each other (be it as first, second or third cousins) was massively common until only a few generations ago. While the idea of “incest” (a term I would definitely hesitate to use in this context) makes us uncomfortable, we should accept the fact that such unions were far from being a rarity in the not-so-distant past.

And while on the topic of marriage between family members, have you ever come across an instance of an uncle marrying his niece? Apparently, property and money were often at the root of these unions between close relatives or close acquaintances (after all, if you marry your brother’s wife’s sister, you are not technically marrying a relative). You should therefore consider the possibility of arranged marriages, which again would have been much more common in Western society a few generations ago. Check marriage records and marital dispensations (especially if your ancestors were Catholic) to see if there was a degree of consanguinity and/or affinity between both spouses, and don’t forget to consult wills to see if anybody stood to gain by marrying a rich relative!

Sometimes, “accidents” may have led to two individuals coming together. Consider another of my female Spanish ancestors who was widowed twice; coincidentally – or not – her son from her first marriage would go on to marry her first husband’s niece – again, not a blood relative per se, but there was a pre-existing family connection that must have been instrumental, one way or another, in bringing the young couple together.

But “chance encounters” probably were as common a way of meeting your future partner in the past as they are today. My great-grandfather Jack emigrated from Italy in 1910 and settled in Manhattan, in an area intensely populated by Italian immigrants. The US Federal census shows us that one of the other inhabitants in the same building block where my great-grandfather ended up was a man called Giacomo Amerio; two years later, Giacomo’s sister arrived from Italy, he introduced her to his flatmate Jack and the rest, as they say, is history!

We cannot always hope to find documentary proof for such seemingly inconsequential moments in history, but considering the pivotal role that these events have played in our own family history, I think it’s time we revisit our family tree and try to figure out how exactly our ancestors met and how we, eventually, came to be!

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Posted in 1841 Census, 1910 US Census, Death, Genealogy, Marriage | 1 Comment

The Italian connection

Because yesterday was, genealogically speaking, a good day – I managed to add a new line of relatives to the Italian side of my family tree thanks to the combined help of AncestryDNA and available records online – I’ve decided to share my experience with you all in the shape of a new blog post!

I may not share much DNA with this relative, but let’s see if I can find out how we’re related anyway! Source: Ancestry

I started off, as I often do, by randomly looking at my own – in this case, my father’s – DNA matches to see if there were any new names on our AncestryDNA matches list. I selected one whose last name suggested a possible connection on my Italian side (that’s my American-born paternal grandfather, whose story you will remember from my dedicated webpage). This person’s tree is basic to say the least – it only contains eleven individuals, including my DNA match, his parents, his four grandparents and a very intriguing great-grandfather called ?? Bussi.

My DNA match’s rudimentary family tree – all names which are not relevant to this article have been redacted by the author. Source: Ancestry

Two clues

Now, this may not have appeared particularly encouraging at first, given that the information available was not very detailed – but there were two clues that I figured could well lead me to a genealogical goldmine: the surname Bussi, which was my great-great-great-great-great-grandmother Clara’s maiden name, and the fact that this individual’s grandmother’s date of birth was featured on his rather rudimentary family tree. Unfortunately my earlier attempts to find out where this match’s grandmother had been born (yes, I have contacted him before) proved futile. Still, I decided to send him another brief message, saying I might be able to connect out respective lines, but to be honest, I’m not holding my breath for an answer any time soon. Anyway, moving on.

The lady recorded as this match’s grandmother was Pauline Bussi, and had a date of birth in 1893. Was she born in the United States, or was she more likely to be an Italian emigrant who went to the new world at the turn of the century, as so many other millions did, including my own great-grandparents?

From my match’s family tree I knew Pauline Bussi’s married name was Roseo, so on I went in search of a marriage certificate. And I found nothing. Niente. OK, let’s try a different angle, let’s have a look at emigration and naturalisation records…

A family of migrants

Aha! What have we here? A naturalisation record for the State of New York from 1927 filed by Giovanni Roseo, a labourer born on 3 April 1889 in Alexandria (sic, probably meaning either the city or the province of Alessandria), Italy. His wife is listed as Magdalina and they appear to have three children: Floreno (Florence?) and Giuseppe, who were born in Italy in 1914 and 1920 respectively, and Carolina, born in Brooklyn in 1924. It definitely looks like Giovanni and his wife Pauline (aka Magdalina?) had been married in Italy, and then emigrated with their young family. Usefully, Giovanni’s wife’s date of birth is also given: 23 March 1893.

But what I’m really interested to learn is about their origins, and if I can link them – presumably through Pauline – to my family tree. As the Roseo family went to America in the 1920s, the earliest census I can expect them to be on is the 1930 census. It doesn’t take me long to find them listed together (with an additional child, Frank), all living under the same roof.

The 1930 census showing the Roseo family living in Brooklyn. Source: Ancestry

Passenger lists are usually a good way of knowing where somebody came from, especially when tracing migrant ancestors whose place of birth on the census was narrowed down to the country only. By this point I was somewhat unsettled by the fact that Pauline was also known as Magdalina. Were they one and the same person, or could they be two different individuals? Was I even looking at the right couple?

My fears were dissipated when I managed to locate a passenger list from 1922 for Maddalena Paolina Bussi. Strangely there is no sign of her children, but she appears to have been travelling with two other women from her home town: San Marzano Oliveto – my great-grandmother’s village!!! The file also reveals that she was going to stay with her husband Giovanni Roseo (wrongly recorded as Bosco) and, more importantly, it tells me her next-of-kin back in Italy is her father Francesco Bussi, who resides in Calamandrana, a small village not far from San Marzano Oliveto.

Maddalena Paolina Bussi (line 13) on a 1922 passenger list. Source: Ancestry

My next step is to try and find a marriage record that will confirm once and for all who Maddalena Paolina really was. Unfortunately, records for Calamandrana are not available on FamilySearch, Ancestry or even Antenati, so – assuming she married in the village where her father lived – it doesn’t look like I’m going to be able to find her marriage to Giovanni. But the passenger list does mention San Marzano Oliveto, a name I’m all too familiar with because it is the focus of what will soon become my first one-place study. I type in the name of the bride and groom, I select San Marzano Oliveto as the place of marriage… and hey presto, I instantly get a hit: the 1913 marriage of Giovanni Antonio Roseo and Maddalena Clementina (huh? not Paolina?) Bussi. I click on the image and before my eyes in the original record, signed over 100 years ago by my distant relative and her fiancé.

The 1913 marriage of Giovanni Antonio Roseo and Maddalena Clementina Bussi. Source: Antenati.

The marriage record confirms Giovanni’s parents were Giuseppe Roseo and Adriana Caligaris, while Maddalena Clementina’s parents were Francesco Bussi and the late Carolina Vaccaneo. While the groom was born in San Marzano Oliveto on 3 April 1889 (which is same date as on the naturalisation record in New York!), the document states that the bride was born in Calamandrana on 29 May 1893; OK, so there is here a slight discrepancy with the naturalisation record, which you will recall stated she been born on 23 March 1893. At any rate, I’ve noticed on several occasions that March/Marzo and May/Maggio often get muddled up in records, so I’m not too bothered about that for now.

I then decided to hover to FamilySearch, which contains a very handy collection of civil registry scans for births, marriages and deaths from 1866 to 1910. Would I be able to locate the marriage for Maddalena Clementina’s parents before 1893? Luckily there’s an index, so if I managed to locate a marriage between a Francesco Bussi and Carolina Vaccaneo, I would be able to prove once and for all if these are really cousins of mine on my Bussi line. After a bit of searching, I finally found the 1882 marriage between Carolina Vaccaneo, daughter of Carlo Vaccaneo and Paola Amerio, and Francesco Bussi, son of Antonio Bussi and his second wife Maddalena Caligaris. Hang on, haven’t we just seen that surname a couple of moments ago? Of course, Maddalena Caligaris is the paternal aunt of Adriana Caligaris. In other words, Maddalena’s granddaughter and namesake married her second cousin, Adriana’s son Giovanni Roseo. Still with me? Good!

The 1882 marriage between Maddalena Clementina (aka Pauline)’s parents Francesco Bussi and Carolina Vaccaneo. Source: FamilySearch.

Through my prior research, I already knew that Antonio Bussi was the younger brother of my aforementioned great-great-great-great-great-grandmother Clara. In fact he has many living descendants in the UK today through his daughter from his first marriage. But I digress. The point is that I’ve finally managed to find my link to the Roseo/Bussi family and claim a new line of relatives on the other side of the pond.

But what of the difference in names? Pauline was known at different times as Maddalena as well as Clementina, right? I actually think there’s a simpler, and perhaps more logical explanation for this: her marriage record – which she signed with her full name, see below – lists her as Maddalena Clementina Bussi. I can only assume that this was her official name. However, her maternal grandmother, and we’ve seen, was called Paola – it is quite possible that as a young girl, perhaps when she was christened or had her confirmation, she was given a third name in honour of her grandmother, and the name stuck within the family. Hence why she would have been known as Pauline, and listed as such on some – but not all – official records.

Maddalena Clementina’s signature on her own marriage certificate. Source: Antenati.

Giovanni Roseo’s signature on his naturalisation record. Source: Ancestry.

All that remains now is to tell my distant cousins in America about their ancestry – but I guess I’ll have to wait until they reply to my latest message, won’t I?

Posted in Antenati, Civil Registration, Emigration, Family Search, Genealogy, Italy, New York City, San Marzano Oliveto, United States | Leave a comment

Why I do genealogy: a personal manifesto

Photo source: Cambridgeblog

Last night, as I was tucking in for what I hoped would be a quiet evening at home delving into my family tree (I know none of you ever does that, right? 😉 ) I saw an e-mail notification popping up at the bottom of my screen. I instantly recognised the sender: it was a second cousin of my mother’s (whom I’ve never personally met), who lives in another country and with whom I used to be in touch years ago because of our shared interest in family history. The tone of the e-mail was friendly and familiar… and I could also tell the reason why he was contacting me, even before I opened the message. He wanted me to send him a full report of the family tree, as he has (allegedly) lost all of his family tree data.

On the face of it, many of you will think: “Well, just do it: give the poor guy the information! He’s your cousin after all, and he’s interested in family history, so why not!” Ah, but here is where you need to know the full story.

When this cousin and I were in touch years ago (I had only just started delving into my family tree, but by chance happened to have access to much more information than he did) I would put all the information into single .doc files (yes, by hand!) in Ahnentafel format and every now and then share them with those few relatives of mine who I knew took a keen interest in family history. This was at a time when family tree software programmes were either being developed or else were not as accessible as they are today. It was then that my cousin introduced me to this new website (I won’t say which) where I could be given access and basically share all the data that I collected, along with a handful of other relatives of his who were not at all connected with my side of the family tree. At first I was thrilled. This could only be a win-win situation, right?

But then, reality struck me: after a few months of willy-nilly uploading names, dates and photos of my relatives on this supposedly private platform, I realised, much to my horror, that someone with access to that tree was posting the information I had just shared on a second online family tree platform which was (and still is) 100% freely accessible. It then dawned upon me that even the original website where I had been uploading data was not as private as I thought, even without access to that particular family tree. By doing a simple Google search for my ancestors’ names using the inverted commas method, I was actually able to find a fair amount of vital information about them, without even having to have an account on that platform. Seeing this as a breach of confidentiality and privacy, I decided to remove the data that I had uploaded onto the tree and left the group for good.

Many among you (and I realise this is going to be an unpopular opinion) think, indeed often tell me, that the purpose of genealogy is to share our family history. I strongly disagree. The purpose of genealogy is whatever purpose we want to give it. Some of us want to seek the origins of a particular surname or lineage; others want to find as many collateral branches as they can; others want to find their link to Charlemagne. There is no written rule as to what you should do with your genealogical research. I “do” genealogy because it gives me pleasure, in the same way that an artist paints because it gives the artist pleasure, not necessarily because he or she feels a need to sell paintings or hold an exhibit. Genealogy is my biggest passion and it satisfies me to unearth ancestors’ stories that have remained locked for decades, if not centuries. I spend hours, and significant quantities of money, carrying out my research. Publishing all my findings online, even by sharing it with my mother’s second cousin, just sells my research cheap.

There are many people out there (starting with the major companies who obviously want us to share our genealogy data online) who want us to believe that the purpose of genealogy is to share our family history. To each his/her own, I suppose. I particularly don’t think that is necessarily true, and moreover, I strongly believe that each person should be free to choose what to do with the genealogical data they collect, as long as they don’t infringe on anyone’s privacy, of course. I for one always tell my relatives that the personal data they give me (about themselves, their parents, grandparents, children or grandchildren) will not be published online or be passed on to a third party. How would I face them if they found out that the old family photos that they have so kindly given me a copy of have ended up on some random (as far as they’re concerned) family tree online?

It is so obvious that we live in an age of information. Actually, I think we live in an age of excess. It’s not about quality anymore, it’s about quantity. Privacy remains one of the most delicate and, in my opinion, most violated subjects in the industry, no matter what the CEOs say whenever there is a serious privacy breach in their company’s database. I and thousands of other genealogists out there are the perfect bait for large multi-million companies to take our data and use it to whichever noble or ignoble means they please, whether it’s catching a murderer through DNA or to sell our biological information to pharmaceutical companies.

The bottom line is not that you shouldn’t share your family history data, but rather that you should feel free to choose whatever you want to do with it. If you only want to keep your family tree information on your laptop software, and not upload it online, fine! If you want to keep your family history on paper format, that’s fine too! Genealogical research should first and foremost be a fun experience, and no one should dictate what you should do with your own research.

PS: I’ve since written back to my mother’s second cousin informing him of my negative experience years ago, and while I will not share a full family tree report for the reasons explained above, I will be happy to fill in any specific gaps he may have regarding our shared family history.

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Why YOU should do the #RussianDollChallenge?

Have you ever done the #RussianDollChallenge? Source:

Some of you may have heard of the #RussianDollChallenge, a hashtag I created on Twitter in September 2018 to discuss direct female ancestral genealogies. And why, you may ask, did this become a popular (dare one say, trending!) topic and, more importantly, why did I create the hashtag to begin with?

You have all owned or at least heard of Russian dolls, those charming, empty, heavily-decorated wooden puppets that, decreasing in size, are stacked one inside the other. When displayed, they form a neatly-ordered row, each representing a “generation”. Because the bigger doll is generally considered the “mother” of its immediately smaller “daughter”, the analogy with the world of genealogy is obvious. If we, as the smallest piece of all – i.e. the smallest daughter (or son, as the case may be) – begin to trace our lineage through an unbroken chain to our mother, and her mother, and her grandmother, and her great-grandmother, and so on, we will at some stage reach a point where we are simply unable to carry on further, be it because no records are available, or because the identity of the most remote female ancestor cannot be established.

Don’t believe me? Have a go! Although I have successfully managed to locate the immense majority of my ancestors in the last – I’m estimating here – seven or eight generations, when it comes to my matrilineal ancestry, I find myself struggling. My maternal grandmother’s maternal grandmother was born in Spain in 1868; her mother was born in 1845, and her grandmother in 1816; her mother before her was born in 1773, but her mother (that’s my six-times great-grandmother, in case you weren’t counting) is a mystery. Because I have not been able to find her baptism, I can just assume that Gabriela Gómez was born sometime during the mid 1700s, probably around the same area where she would later marry twice and give birth to four daughters.

Considering I’ve been able to track my ancestry up most lineages until well beyond the year 1750, it is very frustrating to have this matrilineal brick wall hovering over me – and believe me, I have tried to find Gabriela’s origins time and time again, to no avail. My father’s side is equally frustrating, if for a moment we ignore the fact that I am connected to my paternal grandmother via my father, and not my mother. My father’s five-times great-grandmother was a Mary Lewis, who I assume was born, possibly in Herefordshire, sometime around the mid-1750s.

You’d be surprised how few generations Queen Elizabeth II can trace her line back on her direct maternal side… Source: TudorTimes.

You’d be surprised how easy it is to become stuck if you try the #RussianDollChallenge. Take Queen Elizabeth II, for instance. Her father’s line is impeccably royal, and there is even some blue blood floating about on her maternal grandfather’s side, but her maternal grandmother’s family is surprisingly un-royal (and therefore makes genealogical research harder). The Queen’s maternal grandmother, the Countess of Strathmore, was born Nina Cecilia Cavedish-Bentinck in Belgravia in 1862; her mother was Caroline Burnaby (1832 Leicester -1818 Dawlish), who was in turn the daughter of Anne Caroline Salisbury (1805 Dorchester – 1881 London). Her mother was Frances Webb (1775 Stanway, Gloucestershire – 1862 Salisbury), but her mother, Marry Garritt, is a mystery. When and where she was baptised has not yet been fully established – I have done my best to trace it too, and concluded there are at least two potential candidates who could be the Queen’s direct ancestor. In short, this means that Queen Elizabeth II cannot trace her matrilineal line with certainty beyond her four-times great-grandmother – and that is historically quite recent, especially for a royal. Fortunately the number of matrilineal generations increases for Mia Grace Tindall and Lena Elizabeth Tindall, Princess Anne’s granddaughters via her daughter Zara, who happen to be Queen Elizabeth’s only living female-line descendants other than her three sons (the Prince of Wales, the Duke of York and the Earl of Wessex), as well as Princess Anne’s son Peter Phillips.

Anne Caroline Burnaby (née Salisbury) is Queen Elizabeth’s great-grandmother – though who her great-grandparents were remains a mystery. Source: Wikipedia.

But why should one try to do the #RussianDollChallenge? Well, as any genealogist knows, women tend to be underrepresented on most official records – from marriage certificates (which don’t feature the mother’s name in England and Wales) to baptisms and wills, where the wife’s maiden name is rarely mentioned. With such an obliteration of their original identity, is it any wonder that tracing a woman back in history is much harder than it is tracing a man?

To conclude, by doing the #RussianDollChallenge we are not only figuring out our own origins and remembering our female ancestors, but we are also highlighting the importance of our female-line heritage and our matrilineal history.

March 8th is International Women’s Day, and I invite you all to use this article as a source of inspiration to tweet and post about your female-line ancestors in the days to come. Let me know in the comments below, or via my Twitter feed, of how many generations back you’ve been able to go on your matrilineal side. Remember to use the hashtag #RussianDollChallenge and to hit the “like” button if you’ve enjoyed this article!

You may be the last doll in a long chain of Russian dolls… But how far back can you go? Source: (sofia.boulamrach)

Posted in Birth, England, Famous Genealogy, Genealogy, Gloucestershire, Herefordshire, Women | Leave a comment

Are you going to THE Genealogy Show 2020? Because I am!

UPDATE: This event was postponed due to the COVID-19 pandemic outbreak in 2020. Check the website linked below for further information and updates about the next edition.

This is definitely the week of announcements! OK, this may no longer be actual news to some of you – I fully realise the talk I’m going to tell you about now was already announced a few weeks ago – but following the huge success of 2019 edition of THE Genealogy Show, I can’t really see the old year out without talking about next year’s edition – and yes, you’ve guessed it: I’ll be there again with a new talk!

As many of you know by now, THE Genealogy Show was conceived through the enthusiasm and vision of the Show’s director Kirsty Gray, who turned it into a reality thanks to the help of a wonderful international crew of volunteers – among whom I am privileged to include myself. Most of us, having been regular attendees at Who Do You Think You Are? Live in preceding years, acutely felt the sting of losing such a fantastic event on this side of the Atlantic.

The first edition of THE Genealogy Show took place last June in Birmingham’s NEC, and will return again to the same venue on 26 and 27 June 2020. While undeniably retaining some parallels and similarities with WDYTYA LiveTHE Genealogy Show is different from traditional genealogy events and trade fairs in the UK because of how it has been conceived and executed: based on a solidly international basis, with an incredibly democratic outlook and a unique grassroots attitude which allows new ideas to just materialise, to the delight of attendees. One of the many surprises in store for you in 2020 will be… An Escape Room Experience!

Some very fond memories of the 2019 edition…

In 2019 I spoke at THE Genealogy Show on Spanish genealogical research. My talk for the 2020 edition (scheduled to take place on Friday 26 June) will shift to a much more personal story, titled Finding Paul: How I discovered a cousin I never knew I had. It will be a first-hand account which will cover a wide range of areas: genetics, family history, ethics…  But I’m keeping the biggest of all surprises until the very end of my talk, so why not join me in Birmingham? You will find further details about my presentation on THE Genealogy Show‘s website.

I can’t close off without mentioning the other speakers on the programme. For the first time a genealogy event of this size will have an all-female cast as its keynote speakers: Celia Heritage, Roberta Estes, Maureen Taylor and Fiona Fitzsimons. In addition, I am truly honoured to share the speaker programme with some of the most amazing names from the genealogical world: Jonny Perl, Michelle Leonard, Les Mitchinson, Nathan Dylan Goodwin, Robert Parker, Dave Annal… The list is practically endless!

Remember that tickets for THE Genealogy Show are already on sale (check the website for current offers and discounts), with early bird fees applying until 5 January 2020!

Crowds of enthusiastic genealogists arriving at the 2019 edition last June.

Posted in Birmingham, Events, Genealogy, THEGenShow2019, THEGenShow2020 | Leave a comment

Family Tree Live – here I come!

Family Tree Live returns in 2020!

UPDATE: This event was cancelled due to the COVID-19 pandemic outbreak in 2020. Check the website linked below for further information and updates.

This is definitely the week of exciting announcements (and this may not be the last – hint hint), for today the organisers of Family Tree Live 2020 have finally released their programme of lectures and workshops for next year! Oh, and yes, you’ve guessed it: I will be there!

Family Tree Live is a relatively new event – the first edition only took place earlier this year, after Who Do You Think You Are? Live was discontinued in 2017. In fact, 2019 saw the celebration of three brand new events: THE Genealogy Show in Birmingham, RootsTech London at the ExCel, and Family Tree Live in Alexandra Palace. For the moment only THE Genealogy Show and Family Tree Live have confirmed their dates for 2020, while RootsTech is yet to confirm whether it will hold its European event every year or every other year – I’m told that the location is also subject to much speculation.

Workshops were a very popular feature at Family Tree Live 2019. Photo credit: Family Tree Magazine.

The 2020 edition of Family Tree Live will take place on 17 and 18 April 2020, and will once again be hosted at Alexandra Palace. I was unable to attend the first edition last April, so I confess I’m quite excited to visit this new event in what for me is a new venue – I’m only familiar with Alexandra Palace through the WDYTYA episode when Julian Clary visits to learn more about his grandfather’s military experience during the First World War.

One of the characteristics of Family Tree Live is their workshops – groups of up to ten participants around a table to learn about a specific topic. I will be leading a workshop, set to take place on 18 April at 1.30PM, on Spanish genealogical research, with a special focus on online resources which anyone with an interest in this particular country should consult. There are a number of other workshops, sorted by category, which you can consult here. Remember that all lectures and workshops are included with admission, but booking is required.

Posted in Events, Genealogy, Spain | Leave a comment

See you at the Salon de la Généalogie Paris 15!

I am extremely pleased to announce that I have been invited to talk at the next edition of the Salon de la Généalogie Paris 15. The event, the largest of its kind in the French-speaking world this side of the Atlantic, will be held as usual in the town hall of the French capital’s 15th arrondissement and within easy distance of the city’s main historical landmarks.

The Salon will officially kick off on 3 and 4 March 2020 with activities exclusively reserved for children, to encourage the younger generations to take an interest in genealogy and family history. There will also be children-only activities on the morning of 5 March, followed by the launch of the programme for adult attendees. This year’s edition saw a huge affluence of genealogy enthusiasts (7,000 adulthood participants and 300 children, according to the event’s website), and it even got a significant amount of press coverage – so I’m doubly excited to be taking an active part in 2020!

The Salon puts a strong emphasis on educating children and encouraging them to take an interest in genealogy and family history. Photo credit: Salon de la Généalogie Paris 15.

The details of the full programme will be announced in upcoming weeks, although sessions about genealogical research in a number of countries (e.g. Belgium, Germany and Switzerland), as well as France of course, have already been confirmed. Access to the Salon is free of charge.

My talk, given in collaboration with Eric Jariod from the French association Gen-Ibérica, will take place on Friday 6 March, and will focus on ancestral research in Spain (further details will also be announced in due course). This will not only be my first time at the Salon, but the first-ever talk I give  in French! So you can definitely expect a few beads of sweat before my talk! 🙂

A glimpse of a prior edition of the Salon de la Généalogie Paris 15. Photo credit: Salon de la Généalogie.

The event is organised by local association Archives & Culture. For more information about this event, please visit the event website and keep an eye open for further updates!

On se retrouve à Paris!!!

Posted in Archives, France, Genealogy, Spain | 1 Comment

Happy Birthday, DNI!

Front of an example of a modern-day DNI card.

One of the least-used resources of family research in Spain, and yet perhaps one of the most valuable, is the DNI, the acronym of the Documento Nacional de Identidad (National Identity Document). This small piece of plastic, which nowadays features not just the bearer’s name and surnames (remember that Spaniards usually have two surnames), but also their address, date and place of birth, parentage, and of course a photograph, has a very interesting history – one we should bear in mind considering the DNI’s value to any family historian.

The DNI was created 75 years ago this week by decree of Spain’s military dictator, Francisco Franco. Until then, Spaniards had no way of legally proving who they were, unless they produced a copy of their birth or baptism certificate – which could entail an obvious risk of committing fraud by assuming someone else’s identity. Spaniards would use other, less orthodox methods of “demonstrating” they were who they said they were: membership cards, letters issued by local authorities, and so on.

General Franco was issued with the first ever DNI card.

The order to create the DNI was given in 1944, a mere five years after the end of the cruel Civil War which tore Spain into two rival factions. However, it would not be until 1951 when the first DNI was issued – apparently the effects of the war made it impossible for the state to fund the launch of such a costly administrative procedure.

As each card has a serial number, the first one was issued in favour of Franco himself, while the second was given to his wife, Carmen Polo, and the third to their only daughter, Carmencita. Numbers 4 to 9 have never been used – and are likely to remain so. The next sequential numbers up to 100 are otherwise reserved for members of Spain’s Royal Family. Former King Juan Carlos I bears DNI number 10; his wife, Greek-born Queen Sofía, number 11; their eldest daughter, the Infanta Elena, number 12, and her sister Cristina number 14 (for superstitious reasons number 13 was omitted). Spain’s current king, Felipe VI, bears DNI number 15; his daughters, the Princess of Asturias and her sister the Infanta Sofía, bear numbers 22 and 23, respectively.

The first three DNI numbers were used by General Franco and his immediate family. Those between number 10 and 100, except number 13, are reserved for the Spanish Royal Family.

Numbers are otherwise assigned not in order of issuance at national level, but by region; therefore, depending on which area a new bearer is issued a card for the first time, he or she will receive a higher or lower number than would have been the case elsewhere in the country.

Naturally, the physical appearance of the DNI has changed over time. At first, given that many Spaniards were illiterate, adding the bearer’s fingerprint was compulsory. Photographs were stapled on, and then stamped over to try and avoid counterfeits. The information about the bearer was also modified over time, while those DNI cards issued in the Sahara (a Spanish colony until 1975) were issued bilingually in Spanish and Arabic. Nowadays DNI cards issued in Spain’s bilingual regions (Catalonia, Galicia, the Basque Country and Valencia) are also in the two respective languages of the area. A person’s marital status and profession, once featured on the DNI, are now no longer reflected in the modern version.

The leader of the Spanish Communist Party Santiago Carrillo had at least three fake DNI cards during Franco’s dictatorship.

Having a deceased relative’s DNI card can give a Spanish genealogist a wealth of information – not just the ever-solicited photographic portrait of the bearer, but an exact date of birth, and the parents’ names – all of which is essential information if we need to order the person’s birth certificate.

Who knew that such a small piece of plastic could bear so much interesting and useful information?

Posted in Genealogy, Spain | Leave a comment